


Whisper

by queenseamoose



Series: Saint, Sinner, Savior [5]
Category: Saints Row
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:55:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7428298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenseamoose/pseuds/queenseamoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Things you said when you thought I was asleep<br/>As she awakens in prison, Abby encounters a fellow inmate who seems to know something she doesn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whisper

_Be quiet_ , Abby ordered herself. _Be_ _still_. That was the mantra that had been running through her head since she’d awoken—or at least since she’d realized where she was. Surprisingly, she wasn’t in any pain—and that worried her more than her obvious predicament. She _should_ be in pain—in fact, she should be in _agony_.

The yacht had exploded. That much she knew. Once again, she mentally retraced her steps: night, the driver’s seat of her Zenith, the dock, the yacht, _salting the earth_ , and then the blur of heat and light she could just vaguely recall. So why wasn’t she in pain?

_Be quiet_ , she repeated, _be still_. She could only assume the worst—paralysis? Missing limbs, even? Oh god, how bad _was_ it? _Be quiet, be still!_ The last thing she needed was to accidently admit to _whatever_ it was that had gotten her handcuffed to a hospital bed, and considering her current panicked state, she was doing a pretty damn good job of faking unconsciousness.

But the various monitors she was hooked up to were not so forgiving. She cringed as the tempo of the beeping started to increase—which only made it race even faster. Worst of all, someone else seemed to have noticed—there were brisk footsteps headed toward her. _Be quiet be still! Don’t you dare move!_ But there was suddenly a crash, followed by shouts, and the footsteps froze before dashing off—away from her.

Taking advantage of the distraction, she dared to crack her eyes open—and caught sight of an IV bag hanging above her head. Oh. That would explain it. Heavy painkillers were no doubt being pumped into her veins—which also explained the fog surrounding her head.

The beeping from the monitor was slowing as her breathing eased up. She was steeling herself to try and lift her head when she heard the footsteps returning.

“Put him over here!” The speaker sounded frazzled. “What happened?”

“Shanking,” grunted a second voice. “Third one this week.”

The first let out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t tell me fucking Jerry was on duty again.”

“Who else?” The second let out a snort.

“I’m going to kill that idiot,” the first fumed. “If only he’d do his damn job for once.”

“Doubtful.” The second voice sighed wearily.

“Well, let’s see here…” With both speakers suitably distracted, she opened her eyes once more and continued her exploration of her surroundings. Her arms were like lead at her sides, but she still managed to lift her wrist just slightly—and sure enough, she was still handcuffed to the rails of the bed. She winced at the metallic clatter, but luckily, it was drowned out by a gasp of pain from the other side of curtain.

She tried to lift her head and get a better view of the sights around her, but her eyes were growing heavy again, and she could feel herself beginning to drift off. But there was something nagging at the back of her mind, and as the fog began to overtake her, she finally placed a finger on it. It was the patient on the other side of the curtain—shouldn’t he be in the ER? And shouldn’t she be in the ICU or something? And the fact that he’d supposedly been shanked—shit, was she in _prison?_ And as she fell back into unconsciousness, a disturbing thought popped into her head: _How long was I out?_

* * *

When she came to again, the lights had been dimmed, but there was still noise and movement from the other side of the curtain. “Give him something for the pain if he asks,” a voice was saying. “The dosage is on his chart, and I’ll need another blood sample.”

“And what about the…er, other patient?” another responded.

The first gave a sigh. “Just…keep an eye on her. She’s medicated, she’s stable, and she shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Got it.” There was a faint scribbling sound. “Anything else?”

“I think that’s it. You’ll be all right?”

“I should be.” A yawn. “I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on, and they seem pretty quiet.”

“Might want to get yourself some caffeine while you’re at it,” the first chuckled, and she heard the sound of footsteps heading away.

“Will do. See you tomorrow,” the other replied, and the footsteps faded into the distance.

As she lay in the silence, she once more began to run through it all in her head. There had been a yacht explosion, and…the mayor? Did it have something to do with the mayor? She was also remembering something about the police chief, but she didn’t get any further before her thoughts were interrupted by a slow metallic rasp. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the curtain between her and the other patient beginning to shift, and she quickly closed her eyes, reminding herself to _be still_.

“Hey.” The whisper was a male voice, soft and urgent. “Is it really you?”

She didn’t reply, not even daring to crack open her eyes to get a glimpse at the speaker, but she could only assume it was the patient from earlier—the shanking victim. By now, she was almost certain she was in prison, and the last thing she wanted right now was to be bothered by some inmate with no sense of boundaries—especially when she needed to be figuring out what the hell had happened so she could get herself out of all this. But he was not so easily deterred.

“Can you hear me?” he pressed. “Nod if you can.” She resisted the urge to grit her teeth together. _Leave me alone_. “Or blink?”

What was his _deal_ , anyhow? Did he always go around harassing complete strangers at the worst possible times? _Go away_ , she silently willed. No wonder he’d gotten shanked—if she had the strength, she’d already be giving him another wound to match.

“Are you even awake?” He met her silence with his own, and finally there was sigh. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

She almost laughed out loud. _Sure thing, buddy. Whatever._ Who the hell _was_ this guy?

“I know a way,” he was saying. “You just gotta wake up first.” He sighed again. “Please wake up. If you can.”

Her mind still felt scrambled, but if she wasn’t mistaken, his voice was laced with a heavy note of concern, and the thought suddenly occurred to her: was this somebody she should know? She was almost tempted to open her eyes and demand an answer, but she heard the rasp of the curtain sliding shut again. That heavy drowsiness was also returning, and this time she didn’t fight it. It was clear that the mess she was in was a bad one, and she would need all her strength to deal with it when the time came. But before she finally drifted off, she silently resolved that the next time she got the chance, she’d confront her strange neighbor and get to the bottom of this.


End file.
